Earthly Delights

To Kathleen Edwards: Almost everything I do has some element of compromise in it. Each time I get into an automobile, buy a new pair of boots, or even fill up the bathtub, I am contributing to the great unraveling. I was initially resistant to the idea of having another child. I had misgivings, too, before the birth of my first son twenty-one years ago. I was concerned about population and uncertain about my abilities as a parent. But raising my son was the very thing that turned me into an activist. Seeing this beautiful, pure being enter a perilous world made me want to change that world. Of course, not all activists need to have children to inspire them.

This whole blending of activism and humanity is tricky. No matter how conscientious we are in the U.S., we inevitably consume more than we are entitled to. But to abandon the joys of being human, or to analyze each one as some sort of tax on the earth, can be a subtle trap.

To Ilene Roizman: As Arnie Cooper said in the introduction to his interview, my wife and I now farm in British Columbia, Canada, not in southern California. We’ve had to give up growing avocados and citrus and eat fresh tomatoes and peppers — and, yes, strawberries — for a shorter time each year. During our first winter in British Columbia, I found myself standing sheepishly in the checkout line of the local grocery store with a head of California-grown organic lettuce concealed under my arm, as if I were buying a pornographic magazine.

Since then we have refined our skills and joined an increasing number of growers in cold climes who are using creativity and ingenuity to produce fresh foods throughout the year. (I know of one commercial farmer who grows food throughout the harsh Maine winter under cold frames and row covers without any electricity.) We have also rediscovered the art and the pleasure of drying, freezing, and canning. Cracking open a jar of homegrown pickles, or pesto, or pears, or plums during the peak of winter is an incredible experience. As an eater, I have come to prefer short bursts of seasonal pleasure. I can appreciate strawberries and corn and melons so much more when they aren’t available all the time.

We all pay dearly for our addiction to getting anything we want 365 days a year. We pay for it many times after we leave the checkout counter: with our health, with the health of the natural world, and with the loss of our sense of place.